


Heavy Petting

by CheapLemonIceLolly



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Magical Realism, Sharing a Bed, and a couple of cats, but MAGICAL curtain fic, just hella domestic dog co-parenting good times, lots of dogs, oh and one mouse, sort of curtain fic I guess, with a little pining just for fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 18:07:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15200468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheapLemonIceLolly/pseuds/CheapLemonIceLolly
Summary: “This isn’t Jax,” Mitch says, all serious.  “It’sMarty.  Look.”Auston bends down to get a closer look, and the dog tilts its head at him and wrinkles its forehead in a worried sort of way.“Oh shit,” he says.  He can’t explain how he knows, but Mitch is right.  This dog is totally Marty, one hundred percent.  “Uh, dumb question, but why is he a dog?”





	Heavy Petting

**Author's Note:**

> This is very soft and self indulgent, and honestly I wrote it entirely so I could make That One Joke (you’ll know it when you see it). It also took me TEN MILLION YEARS to finish because it just kept getting longer and longer (I started writing in December, I think, which is why it’s set during bye week but the events bear no resemblance to what anyone actually did during bye week). Thanks to hmasfatty for convincing me to stick with this title even though it’s ridiculous.

It starts with Marty.

Actually, it starts with Mitch turning up at Auston’s apartment with Jax. It’s the first day of bye week, and they don’t actually have any plans until tomorrow when the group bye week boys’ trip sets off, let alone, like, dog walking. But it’s not like Auston’s unhappy to see him. He’s pretty much always happy to see Mitch.

He folds his arms and raises one eyebrow anyway.

“You walking mom and dad’s dog for extra pocket money now?”

“Shut up,” Mitch smiles automatically, but then he shakes his head and the smile disappears. “This isn’t Jax,” he says, all serious. “It’s _Marty_. Look.”

Auston bends down to get a closer look, and the dog tilts its head at him and wrinkles its forehead in a worried sort of way.

“Oh shit,” he says. He can’t explain how he knows, but Mitch is right. This dog is totally Marty, one hundred percent. “Uh, dumb question, but why is he a dog?”

“I have no idea,” Mitch says, chewing his lip. “Listen, can we come in? Syd’s in New York for the week and I couldn’t just leave him on his own, he can’t open doors or order takeout or anything.”

Marty trots into the apartment without waiting for an invitation and starts sniffing interestedly around all the furniture, because apparently dogs haven’t got any manners.

“I booked the real Jax into a kennel,” Mitch says, following him in. “He’s gonna hate it but I didn’t know what else to do. I don’t know how to look after two dogs by myself. I mean, what am I saying,” Auston glances over at him. His voice is getting faster and more high pitched with every word. “I barely know how to look after _one_ dog when he’s supposed to be a _human being_. How the fuck does that even happen?”

Mitch looks like he’s on the verge of losing it. He’s actually wringing his hands while he watches Marty investigate the contents of the coffee table like he’s a real dog.

“Uh,” says Auston. “Well, it’s magic, obviously. Right? Someone must have done something to him.”

Mitch nods, fast and jerky. “Well yeah, of course,” he agrees, sitting down on the couch. “Obviously. But why?”

Austin scrunches his nose up. Good question. “I don’t know, sabotage?”

As soon as he says it, he hears how dumb it sounds. If a witch wanted to sabotage the Leafs, they wouldn’t target a fourth line player right at the start of a bye week. Like, that’s not hanging shit on Marty or anything, it’s just…there’s plenty of time to fix this before they have to play again. Even if they can’t, there’s guys who could fill the gap. It’s a weird choice if the point is to damage the team.

“Or…someone who’s got a grudge against him, I guess,” he tries.

Dog Marty looks up with a startled expression as if to say “who, me?”

“What?” Mitch says, scandalised. He holds his arms out and Marty ambles over to him with a little whuff noise. Mitch smooths his ears with both hands. “Who wouldn’t like Marty?”

They both look up at Auston with the most beseeching puppy dog eyes he’s ever seen. Like, seriously; Marty is an actual dog, but Mitch is just Mitch and he’s really giving Marty a run for his money. Austin sighs.

“I don’t know. Maybe it was just an accident.”

“Whose accident, though? I don’t even know any magic people, do you? We’ve got to change him _back!_ ” Mitch says, sounding panicky again, and Marty whines and headbutts him in the chest in what’s probably meant to be a comforting way. Auston sits down at the other end of the couch.

“Hey,” he says, “don’t lose it. It’s gonna be fine, just…breathe, okay?”

“I’m not losing it,” Mitch insists. He tips over sideways and pulls his feet up onto the couch, half curling into a foetal position. “I’m having a completely rational crisis. It’s totally different.”

Auston laughs, soft. He’s got this really strong urge to reach out and smooth Mitch’s hair back, but he keeps that to himself and nudges his knee against Mitch’s feet instead.

“We could call Mo?” he suggests. “I mean I don’t think he knows any more magic than we do but he’s good in a completely rational crisis.”

It’s the obvious choice. Auston actually does know a few “magic people” - a couple of guys in the NTDP had magic in the family, he’s heard plenty of bragging about that shit, and he’s pretty sure his dad’s mentioned a third or fourth cousin who’s a witch - but he’s got a feeling it’s probably better if they keep this to themselves, at least for now. He can just imagine what would happen if he told his dad there was a magical crisis going on; he’d have the whole family on his doorstep. Not because they could actually help, but because that’s what family do when something goes wrong. And, like, he loves them, but that...wouldn’t help.

As for locals…well, Patty and his family have already left town for their bye week vacation, and Mo’s the next closest thing to a responsible adult Auston can think of, short of calling Babs or the front office. And Auston really doesn’t want to do that. Save it for a last resort.

“Can you call him?” Mitch mumbles, pillowing his head on one arm. His eyelids are drooping. “I’m so tired. Having a crisis is exhausting.”

Auston rolls his eyes, but he calls Mo anyway. There’s no answer, it rings through to voicemail, and he can’t quite work out how to explain the Marty-is-a-dog situation in a message so he just hangs up. By the time he puts the phone down, Mitch is asleep.

Most people look younger when they’re sleeping, but Mitch looks young when he’s awake, so he just looks the same. Maybe a little softer around the edges, his mouth all slack and relaxed. It’s kind of weird to see his face so still when Auston’s used to it constantly moving. 

His eyelashes look really long and dark when his eyes are closed.

Auston jumps when Marty headbutts him in the knee to get his attention.

“I wasn’t--” he blurts out, but Marty doesn’t seem to notice he’s being weird because he’s being pretty weird himself. He bounces around on the spot for a moment, hurries away towards the front door and then rushes back, whining. Auston frowns at him uncomprehendingly, but after Marty does the same routine a second time understanding finally hits him.

“Aw, man,” Auston says, making a face. “Can’t you wait until he wakes up?” Marty whines insistently and kind of dances from side to side in the universal gesture for animals and kids that really need to pee _right the fuck now or else_. Auston tips his head back and sighs. “Alright, alright, I’ll take you outside.”

He briefly considers just sending Marty out on his own to find a fire hydrant to piss on - it’s not like he’s never seen a dog do its business before but it feels different when he knows the dog is his teammate - but the last thing they need is for Marty to get picked up by the city pound or something. Auston can just imagine Mitch’s face if he let Marty get, like, imprisoned by dog catchers.

He scribbles a note on a post it to explain where they’re going and sticks it to Mitch’s face so he’ll definitely see it, and then heads out with Marty trotting at his heels. There’s a little park down the end of the road that’ll be perfect. Marty can go behind a bush while Auston looks the other way and everyone’s dignity will be preserved.

Actually, even better, there’s a coffee shop just across the street from the park. It’s been kind of a stressful morning and it’s fucking freezing because Canada, and stress and cold always make Auston hungry.

“You do your thing,” he tells Marty, waving at the park. “I’ll be there in five, okay?”

It’s more like fifteen, actually, but the coffee smells amazing and so does the maple cinnamon donut he buys on impulse while he’s waiting, so. The donut isn’t strictly on his diet plan, but fuck it, babysitting dog teammates isn’t part of his regular training program either.

When he emerges from the coffee shop, warm donut in hand, he looks across the road and sees a middle aged lady standing at the edge of the park, peering into the bushes with a worried frown. Auston jogs across the street and waves.

“Uh, hi,” he says, aiming for ‘nothing to see here’ and probably coming closer to mild panic.

“Is that your dog?” the lady says, still frowning as Marty wanders out from the undergrowth, looking far happier than before.

“Oh!” Auston says. “Yeah, that’s...he’s with me.” The lady looks unconvinced.

“You really should have it on a leash, you know,” she tells him. “That breed can be unsafe.”

Marty makes an offended noise and Auston glares at him. “Haha, yeah,” he says, raking a hand through his hair. “Well to tell you the truth I’m looking after him for a friend? All kind of short notice so uh. I’m getting the leash and stuff, um. Tomorrow.” Marty huffs indignantly, so Auston glares at him again. “Probably a muzzle, too.”

“You can’t be too careful,” the lady says, nodding. Then she jerks her chin in the direction of the bushes Marty just vacated. “Aren’t you going to put that in the garbage?” she says sternly.

“Oh,” Auston blinks. “I uh. I haven’t got a plastic bag.”

The lady indicates the paper bag Auston’s holding, with his _donut_ in it. “That’ll do,” she says. Then she folds her arms and plants her feet like she’s going to stand right there and _watch_ until he goes into the bushes, finds this fucking dog shit and puts it in the trash.

Auston looks down at Marty, who lies down on the pavement and puts his head between his paws with an embarrassed little whine.

“Right,” Auston says miserably. He finishes the last couple bites of the donut, which suddenly tastes like sand, and takes a deep breath. He heads into the undergrowth, half hoping the lady’ll see him commit and then leave, so he can backtrack once she’s out of sight, but she doesn’t. She watches him like a hawk, like she knows exactly what he’s thinking.

At least it doesn’t take long to find where Marty...uh...dumped the puck, as it were.

_Don’t think about it_ , Auston tells himself bracingly, _it’s just a dog turd. Don’t think about where it came from_. He crouches down and scoops it up in the bag, quickly as he can, and practically runs over to the trash can to throw it away before he can think too much about handling his teammate’s actual shit in a paper bag.

The lady smiles, apparently satisfied, and says “Have a lovely day!” Then she goes on her way, completely oblivious to the mortification both Auston and Marty are experiencing in her wake. Auston wants to wash his hands ten thousand times. He’s probably going to burn these gloves when he gets home.

“Not a word about this to anyone,” he says warningly, giving Marty a look.

Marty whines in agreement.

*

When they get home, Mitch greets them in the entryway, looking harried and a little dishevelled, still all flushed and rumpled from his nap. Normally Auston would probably think the way his hair’s standing on end is cute, but he’s distracted because Mitch isn’t alone.

Standing beside him is a _huge_ orangey-coloured dog with a big square head and massive shoulders. Like, fucking enormous. Size of a small horse. It looks as if it could easily knock Auston on his ass if it jumped on him, but for now it’s standing very still, watching him calmly. Its unflappable expression looks worryingly familiar.

“What...what kind of dog is that?” Auston says slowly. Mitch stares at him.

“It’s a great dane,” he says helplessly.

For fuck’s sake.

Marty goes over and sniffs at Freddie’s shoulder, which is as high as he can reach in his dog form, and then both dogs come to some kind of silent dog agreement and head into the living room. Mitch rakes both hands through his hair, making it look even more wild.

“He just turned up,” he says. “I don’t even know how he got in the building, I just heard scratching at the door, thought it was you guys coming back, and when I looked out it was Fred. Only, like, _dog_ Fred. _God_.”

“Okay,” Auston says, trying to make his voice soothing because Mitch looks as if he’s about to start hyperventilating. “Okay, so it’s not just someone who’s pissed at Marty. This is some kind of team thing, right?” He waits for Mitch to nod. “We should call around, not just Mo. See if any of the other guys have any ideas.”

“We’re going to have to cancel the boys’ trip, anyway,” Mitch says sadly.

“I mean, maybe not?” Auston shrugs. You can take dogs on a boat, right? It might be easier to take care of dog teammates with other human teammates around, anyway. And if there’s more guys to help Auston can probably get out of dog-shit-disposal duty too. “Let’s try Mo again.”

Mitch calls while Auston goes into the kitchen and washes his hands. And then washes them again. Just in case. He dumps his gloves straight in the trash. Back in the living room, Mitch puts the phone on speaker and lays it in the middle of the coffee table while it rings, leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees and a pinched look on his face.

“Hey,” Auston says, sitting down next to him and bumping their shoulders together. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out.”

Mitch smiles and bumps him back, and then keeps leaning on him. Auston figures he needs the support.

It takes Mo a while to answer, but when he does he sounds...frazzled.

“Hey, is this urgent?” he says shortly. “Because I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

“Um,” says Auston. Mitch is chewing agitatedly on his thumbnail while he watches Marty flop down on the floor and lick dejectedly at his own foot, because dogs are kind of gross. Freddie looks pretty chill, but...he’s still definitely a dog, so. “Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty urgent,” Auston says. “Listen, can you come over? I need help with something but...I don’t think you’re gonna believe it unless you see it for yourself.”

“Honestly, Matts, this really isn’t a good t--”

Mo’s interrupted by a loud bark. But it isn’t Marty, whose head jerks up at the sound, or Freddie, who just kind of sighs.

“Did you get a dog?” Mitch asks suspiciously.

“Is that Mitchy? What…” Marty interrupts him with an impatient bark of his own, and Mo pauses. “Did _you_ get a dog?” he says, voice suddenly sharp, which basically confirms all Auston’s suspicions immediately.

“I mean technically I think Syd got a dog.” Auston says. 

It should be bad, knowing the dog thing is spreading, but honestly this actually seems like a good thing. If it’s happened to Mo too - well, to Gards, probably - he’s probably got a solution half worked out already. Suddenly it all seems almost funny. Like, _great dane_. That’s pretty classic. Mitch gives him a sidelong look.

“Look,” he tells Mo, “I really think you should get over here. You and...uh...whoever that is. There’s some really weird shit going on.”

“No shit,” says Mo. “Alright, we’ll be there in half an hour or so.”

*

Mo turns up eventually, but it takes a little longer than half an hour, and when he gets there he’s in no condition to help anyone.

Auston hears the bell and buzzes them up, but when he opens the door he looks down and finds two almost identical golden retrievers sitting outside. One of them, the very slightly lighter coloured one, is wearing a brand new leash and collar that Auston’s willing to bet Mo bought in a hurry that morning - obviously he thought through the dog-in-public situation better than Auston did. The slightly darker gold one is holding the other end of the leash in his mouth. They both look up at him with dejected expressions.

Auston sighs. Okay, it’s not all that funny anymore.

“Come in and join the party, I guess,” he says.

“Oh my god,” Mitch says when he sees them. “They _match_. That is the most adorable shit I’ve ever seen.”

“D’you want me to point out that the guy who was supposed to help us fix this turned into a dog, or…”

“Aww,” Mitch beams, dropping onto his knees so dog Gards runs over to him. “But they’re so _cute_ , look at them! Are you the cutest d-men in the league?” he gushes, ruffling Gards’ coat with both hands while Mo sniffs at his hair. “You sure are! Yes you are!”

Marty and Freddie are snoozing on the couch (Auston’s allowing it in spite of the dog thing because earlier when he pushed them off onto the floor Freddie just climbed back up and sat on him) but at those words Marty looks up and wrinkles his forehead at Mitch in an aggrieved kind of way. 

“You’re not a d-man,” Auston reminds him, and pats him on the head. “I’m sure you’re still his favourite, don’t worry.”

Marty looks unimpressed. Freddie continues to ignore everyone, even when Auston gives him a shove to make room for himself on the couch. Auston’s pretty sure dog Freddie weighs almost as much as he does, so the move only half works, but he tries to get comfortable in the tiny gap anyway.

“So um,” he says, kicking Mitch lightly to get his attention, “I don’t want to be a downer or anything but yesterday we had no dogs and now we have four. And no idea how to make them not dogs again.”

Mitch’s shoulders droop. “Yeah.” He scrunches up his face and Mo licks his ear, which is probably meant to be comforting but looks pretty revolting from where Auston’s sitting. Apparently normal boundaries apply even less to dogs than they do to hockey players. “I mean, maybe it’ll wear off?” 

Auston nods slowly, looking around at his dog teammates. “We could just wait a day or two and see what happens,” he says. He’s kind of missed having a dog since he’s been in Toronto, and while this wasn’t really what he had in mind, it’s kind of...nice? Plus he’s more or less guaranteed to get enough chirping material out of this to last a lifetime. He’s definitely going to have snapchat ready next time someone sniffs someone else’s butt. 

Mitch is running his fingers absentmindedly through Mo’s fur like he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it. It’s pretty cute. Probably having a short term pet kind of appeals to him too, now he’s calmed down a bit.

“You could just stay here until they change back,” Auston says. “Like, dad’s room’s a guest room now I guess.”

Mitch looks up at him. “Yeah? I mean, it’d probably make more sense to stay all together,” he says, and he looks instantly happier, like a little bit of worry melts away just at the idea. Auston feels a little relieved too, actually.

“Although if we’re gonna wait it out we should probably get, like, supplies or something, right?” Mitch adds, chewing his lip thoughtfully. “Food and stuff. I don’t think they should just eat normal people food. D’you think they’d eat dog food?”

The guys, it turns out, do _not_ like the idea of eating dog food. They all make their opinions on that point known, very loudly and all at once.

“Alright, alright!” Mitch yells over the howling, covering his ears. “Oh my god, no dog food!”

He starts googling things on his phone and Mo leans into his shoulder so he can see. Auston just catches a glimpse of _20 deadly foods that could kill your dog - #13 may surprise you!_ before Mo’s head gets in the way.

“Oh wow, did you know avocados are like, _super_ toxic to dogs?” Mitch says, frowning at the screen. “And onions? And _grapes?_ ”

“Guess that means no wine and nachos nights while you’re here, huh?” Auston tells Gards, who cocks his head at him, looking politely confused. It’s basically how Gards looks most of the time when he’s a person, anyway. Mitch looks up from his phone.

“Definitely not,” he says sternly. “Even a tiny bit of alcohol can _kill_ dogs, Matts, _god_.”

Auston can’t help but laugh at the look on his face. So, Mitch is going to take being a surrogate dog dad very seriously. Well, okay, Auston doesn’t really want to explain to Babs how they accidentally killed four of their teammates with _grapes_ either.

Mitch makes him write a shopping list of dog-friendly people food, thoroughly researched from google. He gets a lot of input from Mo, who approves of peanut butter but vetoes kidneys, but the other dogs don’t seem all that interested now they know dog food is off the table. Gards has discovered his own feathery golden tail and is turning in an endless circle trying to catch it, Marty’s moping and doing his best to squash Auston on the couch, and Freddie is ignoring everyone, his giant head laid on the arm rest.

“Uh,” Auston says, “maybe one of us should stay here with the...guys while the other one gets this stuff?” They seem pretty chill right now, but he does not want a repeat of the poop incident, especially not on the carpet in his actual house. One of them needs to be here in case someone needs to get outside, like, urgently.

“Sure,” Mitch shrugs. “I can--”

“No I’ll go,” Auston says quickly, already getting up. “You stay here and uh. See if you can think of anyone else who can help change them back, yeah?”

Look, he’s not proud of leaving Mitch alone to deal with dog shit, unprepared and unwarned, but also he has a healthy sense of self-preservation, and that definitely wins out. But before he an get to the door one of the golden retrievers springs up out of nowhere and nearly trips him up.

“The fuck, dude,” Auston says, nearly tripping over him. The dog gives him a Look, which makes Auston pretty sure it’s Mo. “What, you want to come too? I can’t take a dog to the grocery store. I promise I won’t buy any grapes, okay?”

But Mo doesn’t seem to accept that at all. He gives Auston the body, ramming him in the legs and refusing to let him get past into the hall, and he might be a lot smaller than Auston now but he’s still strong; Auston has to work hard to not get knocked on his ass.

“Seriously, what’s your problem?” he demands, taking a step back, and then another one, until Mo’s bullied him all the way back into the arm of the couch. He barks, short and sharp and insistent.

“I don’t think he trusts you on your own, bud,” Mitch says, amused. He leans down and addresses Mo directly. “D’you want me to go with him? Make sure he doesn’t buy anything dumb, or get distracted at the shoe store or something?” Mo barks again, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in a broad doggy grin.

“Fuck both of you,” Auston says. “Fine, get your shoes on. But if anyone takes a dump on my carpet while we’re out, you two are cleaning it up.”

*

Things do not improve for Auston when they get to the grocery store.

Mo insists on coming inside with them, which Auston’s pretty sure isn’t allowed, and once they get in there it becomes obvious why; Mitch’s dog-friendly shopping list is mostly fresh produce and, like, seventy percent meat, and even though Mo’s obviously trying really hard to keep his cool it’s equally obvious that all the sights and smells are driving his tiny dog brain absolutely wild. He paces back and forth, nose twitching frantically, while Auston tries to shovel food into their trolley as quickly as his can.

Mitch isn’t much calmer. He’s written NO PACKAGED SHIT!!! on the top of their shopping list in huge letters, and he actually swipes a bag of chips right out of Auston’s hands and onto the floor like a crazed soccer mom at one point.

“Hey, those were for me!”

“Shop on your own time,” Mitch says, planting one hand between his shoulder blades and propelling him towards the refrigerated meat cabinet. “We’ve got a lot of mouths to feed here.”

They’re not even halfway through the list (four dogs eat a _lot_ , especially when one of them’s the size of a small horse) when a guy in a store uniform appears out of nowhere. Mitch is in the middle of a one-sided argument with Mo about kidneys - “dude, I know they _look_ gross, but they’re way cheaper than steak and they’re super good for you!” - and he looks totally deranged. Auston’s heart sinks.

“Excuse me, but you can’t have a dog in here,” the store guy says, frowning.

“Oh, uh, he’s...an assistance dog,” says Auston, thinking quickly. “He’s really important to, um, keep my buddy here calm.”

Mitch hasn’t noticed the store guy at all, and his voice is rapidly rising in pitch. “Come on, be reasonable,” he whines. “You haven’t even tried it!”

“Calm,” says the store guy flatly. Auston rubs the back of his neck.

“You should see him without the dog.”

Unfortunately Mo takes this moment to lose his head completely and lunge for the package of kidneys in Mitch’s hand. Mitch yelps and jerks his arm out of reach which sends the kidneys flying, and they hit the store guy directly in the face with a wet-sounding smack.

“You know what,” Auston says, grabbing Mitch by the wrist and reaching for the scruff of Mo’s neck, “I think we’ll just go. Um, thanks, great range you’ve got here.”

At the next supermarket, they try to leave Mo in the car, but he puts up such a fuss about it that people start to stare, so Auston relents and lets him come as far as the door.

“But you have to wait out here,” Auston tells him. “Don’t get in any trouble. And if you see someone who looks like a dog catcher just, like, run for it or something. I don’t want to have to bail you out of dog jail.”

Mitch ruffles his ears and says, “Be a good boy, Mo-Mo,” and Auston wonders how he ended up the only responsible adult in this situation. Mo just sits down politely and looks angelic, as if he isn’t personally responsible for all of this. Auston rolls his eyes.

The shopping’s mostly uneventful this time (Mitch decides not to get any kidneys) until they get to the checkout. There, the girl ringing up their groceries keeps giving them weird looks as she scans pound after pound of raw meat. They’re both wearing ball caps pulled down low over their eyes, because they’re always more recogniseable when they’re out somewhere together, and Mitch keeps getting the giggles as the meat just piles higher and higher. 

Auston stifles a snort and elbows him hard in the ribs, but that only makes it worse. They’re basically buying an entire cow worth of steaks. Nothing about this is not funny.

They somehow make it through paying and collecting their shit without completely losing it, but the checkout girl stares at them the whole time as if they’re either crazy or stupid. She’s probably right on both counts.

Finally, _finally_ they’re done, and they start heading for the doors, laughter still threatening to bubble up between them like a volcano about to erupt.

“Hey,” the checkout girl calls after them. “You forgot one of your bags.”

“Oh wow, thanks,” Mitch says, running back to grab the extra bag of meat. “That would have been a big missed steak.”

Auston has to clap a hand over his mouth. He drops three shopping bags. He doesn’t even know why it’s so funny, but Mitch bends down to help him pick up the bags, grinning like a fucking idiot at his own terrible joke, and all Auston can think is:

“I can’t believe Freddie turned into a fucking _great dane_.”

Mitch cracks up. He has to put down his shopping bags and grab Auston’s shoulder so he won’t collapse, laughing this bright, loud, borderline hysterical laugh that has all the other shoppers turning to stare at them. Auston tries to shush him but it’s infectious; he’s grinning so hard his face hurts, he can feel this laugh swelling behind his tightly closed mouth like a balloon and it’s going to explode any second.

“A lady in the street made me pick up Marty’s shit in a fucking paper bag,” he says, through tears of laughter.

“Oh my god,” Mitch wheezes. “I’m going to die.”

“I thought _I_ was going to die,” Auston gasps back, and Mitch actually presses his face into his shoulder, shoulders shaking with laughter so hard it’s almost silent.

They almost manage to calm down. They even get as far as collecting all their millions of grocery bags and standing up again, and then Mitch whispers “great dane” and they both lose it again, laughing so hard they have to hold each other up. They’re lucky no one calls security.

Auston can’t honestly think of anyone better to get stuck babysitting four magical dogs with, somehow.

*

Outside, Mo isn’t alone. A lady and her kid are bending over him, and the lady seems to be feeling in the thick fur around his neck like she’s looking for a collar or something.

“I thought I told him to run if anyone tried to catch him,” Auston mutters. “Didn’t I say that?”

“I dunno, man, they don’t look much like dog catchers to me,” Mitch shrugs. The little kid looks about six, and he’s giggling and saying “good dog” while Mo sniffs curiously at his hands. Auston coughs.

“Oh!” says the lady, looking up. “Is this your dog? I thought he must be waiting for someone, but he’s got no collar so…”

“Uh yeah,” Auston says awkwardly, “He’s with us.” 

Mitch flashes the lady a thousand watt smile and adds, “Thanks for looking out for him though.”

The little kid stops giggling abruptly at the sound of their voices and turns his attention upwards, and he’s suddenly staring at Mitch with eyes like saucers. Auston definitely knows that look.

“Are you Mitch Marner?” the kid asks in an awed voice. “And _Auston Matthews?_ ” 

Auston knows they should probably try and get out of here as quickly as they can, they’ve got like thirty pounds of beef in their shopping bags and a bunch of dogs at home who might start trying to eat the furniture if they get hungry enough, but...it’s a _kid_. Mitch’s polite be-nice-to-strangers smile’s already turned into the warmer, softer, more genuine smile he gets when he meets little kid fans. And Auston kind of loves Mitch’s little kid smile.

“Yup,” Mitch says, couching down to the kid’s level and holding out his hand for a handshake. “That’s us. Nice to meet you, uh…?”

“I’m Suresh,” says the kid solemnly. “I’m the second biggest fan of the Leafs in the whole world.”

“ _Second_ biggest?” Mitch raises his eyebrows.

“Well, my mama says I have to be second biggest because she’s your actual biggest fan.”

Auston glances questioningly at Suresh’s mom, but she laughs.

“That’d be his other mama, sorry,” she says. “I assume you’re some kind of, ah, sports people?”

“ _Moooom_ ,” Suresh groans, with the unselfconscious embarrassment only a six-year-old can muster. Then he notices all the grocery bags in Auston’s hands. “Why do you have so much food?” he asks. “Do you have to eat all this for hockey?”

“Oh, this isn’t for us,” Auston tells him, crouching down next to Mitch. He reaches out and ruffles Mo’s ears. “It’s for ah, Mister Fluffybutt over here.”

“Oh yeah,” Mitch agrees seriously. “He eats a _lot_. Like, you have no idea. Almost as much as Morgan Rielly, wouldn’t you say, Aus?”

Mo gives them both a dark look, and then licks Suresh’s face, which is gross but it makes the kid shriek with laughter.

“Oh no, I think he’s got a taste for you!” Mitch gasps, and Suresh giggles harder and wraps his arms around Mo’s neck in a hug.

“No way, Mister Fluffybutt’s my friend now,” he insists. “He wouldn’t eat me.”

Auston and Mitch sign some stuff for Suresh and his other mama - “She’s gonna die, seriously,” his mom says, laughing, “I’ll never have to do the grocery run again,” - and then they head off into the store while Auston tries to corral their piles of shopping.

“Bye!” Suresh calls out, waving frantically. “Bye Mister Fluffybutt!”

As soon as they’re gone, Mo starts sniffing insistently at the shopping bags.

“What, you don’t trust us?” Auston says, trying to lift them up out of reach. “You gotta double check we got the right stuff? I promise I didn’t let Mitchy buy any kidneys.” 

Mo makes a grumpy noise and headbutts Auston hard in the thigh.

“Oh my god, _alright_ ,” he sighs, and crouches down again to Mo can inspect the groceries.

He sticks his nose into each bag as it’s held open for inspection, while Auston looks around and hopes nobody notices they’re getting their groceries approved by a dog. Once Mo’s examined everything to his satisfaction, he looks up and wags his fluffy tail in approval.

“Acceptable?” Mitch says, tipping his head to one side. Mo wags his tail harder.

“That’s good,” says Auston. “Because I’m going to call you Mister Fluffybutt for the rest of your life, I hope you know that.”

*

“You’re really good with kids,” Auston says as they heave the last of the groceries into the apartment.

“It’s probably because I basically am one, right?” Mitch says, with a lopsided smile. He looks kind of exhausted and it makes Auston feel weird, worried in a way he’s not used to feeling with Mitch. He doesn’t like it. He wants to just sweep all the tired unhappiness away where Mitch won’t be bothered by it any more, which is...not really a helpful way of thinking about anything.

“Ha, probably,” he says instead. “But seriously, it’s a good skill to have.”

“Yeah,” Mitch sighs. “Wish I was as good with dogs as I am with kids. You know that whole time we left Mo outside, anything could’ve happened to him and I didn’t even think until just now. He could’ve got stolen or hit by a car or anything.”

Auston hadn’t really thought of any of that either. He has a sudden, very vivid mental image of dog Mo running out in front of a car, and feels sick.

“He’s not really a dog,” he points out, as much to reassure himself as anything. “I’m pretty sure they just look like dogs, they’re still themselves inside. So it’s not like he would’ve run into traffic or anything he wouldn’t do as, like, himself.” Mo chooses this moment to start sniffing interestedly at a pack of fillet steaks, very much like an actual dog who’s about to steal some meat and make a run for it. Auston gives him a firm shove down the hall with his foot.

“No, I know,” Mitch sighs. “But I just feel responsible for him. All of them. There’s so much stuff they can’t do on their own.”

“Yeah. Well, we can feed them, at least.”

Mitch’s pinched, worried look disappears into a laugh. “I’ll say,” he snorts. “How much fucking meat did we get?”

“Uh, excuse you. We got exactly what you made me write on your stupid list.”

“Huh.” Mitch wrinkles his nose. “Maybe I went a bit overboard with that. Is this even going to fit in your fridge?”

It does fit, more or less, with a lot of creative stacking and shoving. They freeze some of it, too, because there’s nothing in Auston’s freezer but a couple of ice cube trays. Auston doesn’t actually know anything about freezing meat, but there probably aren’t many ways you can do it wrong, right? Most of the vegetables _don’t_ fit, but like Mitch says, it’s more important to keep meat cold than, like, corn. So they just dump the vegetables on the counter and leave them there.

“Someone should invent home delivery for dogs,” Mitch says, flopping down next to Freddie, who seems to have claimed the couch as his own. “Like ready meals but with no stuff in them that dogs can’t eat.”

“I mean,” Auston says, sitting down on Freddie’s other side, “I think most people just buy cans of dog food, man. It’s only our dogs that are picky. Because they’re people.”

“Oh, right,” Mitch frowns, looking at Freddie with his brow furrowed. He’s silent for a long time and then says, abruptly, “What if we can’t turn them back?”

“Well,” Auston says slowly. “Fred could probably make a decent goalie as a dog. Like, he’s still pretty big.”

Freddie just sighs and turns his back on Auston to rest his chin on Mitch’s shoulder, but Mitch laughs.

“D’you think we could get, like, dog sized pads for him? That’d be so cute.”

“A Scooby Doo mask,” Auston grins, which makes Mitch cackle. 

Auston likes making Mitch laugh. He likes the way his whole body gets in on the joke, rocking back in his seat and kicking one foot out randomly like there’s too much funny for his body to contain. Mitch looking anxious and sad just seems wrong, like the world’s fallen off its axis. He’s much more himself smiling up at Auston, his laugh generous and loud.

Freddie seems way less entertained. He huffs and heaves himself off the couch, heading out of the room.

“Aw, Fred, don’t be like that,” Mitch calls after him, but he’s still giggling, and Freddie ignores him. “Oh hey,” he says, hitting Auston on the knee with the back of his hand. “I called Naz before, about the dog thing. He didn’t pick up, but I left a message, so.”

“Okay, cool,” Auston nods. He’s actually in kind of a good mood right now. He doesn’t know if it’s the dog goalie jokes or just the company, but having Mitch here definitely makes things seem better, more manageable, maybe even fun. “You wanna play CoD or something until he calls back?”

*

Auston’s good mood doesn’t last overnight.

Naz turns up the next morning, yelling at them from the balcony. Well, yowling. Auston has no idea how he got up there, given he lives...a _lot_ of floors up, and Naz is currently a small grey cat, but there he is. Small, grey and _angry_. Mitch exclaims at the sight of him and scoops him up in his arms, which Naz protests strenuously until he realises Mitch is warm and then he submits to being cuddled. It’s cold outside, god knows how long he’s been out there. He glares at Auston while it’s happening, though, as if the indignity of being a cat is his fault.

“Who else do we know who’s, like...smart?” Mitch says desperately while Naz rubs the top of his head against his chin. “Hyms? Have we called him yet?”

Zach turns up a couple of hours after Mitch finishes explaining the situation to him over the phone. It takes Auston a second to recognise him when he answers the door, because he’s turned into a fucking greyhound somewhere along the way here, but it’s him.

“No more phone calls,” Auston says, slamming the door behind him and Zach. This was funny yesterday but now it’s getting out of hand. Auston’s condo is pretty big but two guys, a cat and _five dogs_ is really pushing the limits of its capacity, in his opinion.

Mitch looks up from where he’s crouched on the floor to hug dog Zach and says guiltily, “I already called Willy.”

“You thought _Willy_ was going to come up with something smart?” Auston says, raising an eyebrow.

“I panicked,” Mitch admits.

Sure enough, Willy arrives around lunch time, four-legged, snow white and fluffy, with a flamboyantly plumed tail that curls over his back.

“Even as a dog you gotta look like that, huh?” Auston says wearily. Willy responds with a cheerful bark and proceeds to bound into the apartment and jump all over everyone. Well, at least someone’s enjoying this.

By mid-afternoon, it’s starting to become clear that their dog resources are not sufficient for six dogs.

“They’re _bored_ ,” Mitch says as Zach and Willy go tearing through the living room and up the hall for the hundredth time. Auston grits his teeth. “Dogs need exercise, especially big dogs. They can’t just stay inside forever.”

“Well we can’t take them out walking without leashes,” Auston points out. “I’m pretty sure that’s illegal, and what do we do if, like, Zach sees a racoon and decides to chase it or something? Greyhounds like chasing things, right?”

They’ve only got one collar, but they can’t use it on all the different sized dogs they have, and they can’t walk them one at a time anyway or they’ll spend all of their time at the fucking dog park. So - against Auston’s better judgement about leaving no humans to watch over animal house - they leave the boys at home and find a pet store not far away to buy more supplies. Auston’s starting to realise that dogs are more effort and expense than they look.

“Realistically, though,” he says, looking at the price tag on a studded leather collar and pulling a face, “are we ever going to go out with all of them at the same time?”

“You never know,” Mitch shrugs, still going through the rack marked _medium sized dogs_. “What if your building catches fire and we all have to rush out into the street?”

“I think we’ll be allowed to have them off leash if the building’s _on fire_ , Marns. Anyway, what’re we going to do with Naz, just leave him up there to burn?”

“He’s little,” Mitch shrugs. “I can stuff him into my sweater. As long as he doesn’t freak out and claw me. Ooh, hey,” he picks up a powder blue collar with MY PRINCE written in diamantes on it. “For Willy”

“Perfect,” Auston grins. “What about Hyms?” This one has BAD TO THE BONE on it, but all the letters are made up of little cartoon bones. Mitch cracks up because he’s weak for terrible puns, like Auston knew he would.

He’s a little worried the checkout girl will recognise them, but she doesn’t seem to. Actually, she seems to think they’re...a couple?

“Aww,” she coos when Mitch dumps an armful of stuff on the counter, “is this your first dog together? Do you have a name picked out yet?”

“Uhh…” Mitch says. “It’s not just one dog.” 

The cashier’s eyebrows go up and up as she scans one, two, three, four, five collar and leash sets. Her expression changes from delight to awe, and then concern.

“Uh, wow. That’s...that’s a lot of dogs.”

Auston doesn’t have the heart to tell her it’s even more dogs than that.

“What can I say,” he says, “we’re really into accessorising.”

Mitch is uncharacteristically quiet on the way home. Just when Auston’s about to ask him if he’s alright, he says, “I think that girl thought we were...you know. Together.”

His voice sounds a little weird, so determinedly casual it’s sort of gone past casual and become awkward, and when Auston glances at him he’s staring kind of fixedly out the window. It makes Auston feel awkward too, for some reason.

“Uh. Does that bother you?”

Mitch looks over sharply, like the question surprises him. “Does it bother _you?_ ”

“Not really.” Auston shrugs. He keeps his eyes on the road and doesn’t try to interpret Mitch’s complicated facial expression. “I mean, it’s not like I’m ever going to see her again.”

There’s a strange silence.

“Right,” Mitch says. He still sounds weird, but in a different way. Auston doesn’t really know what to make of it. “Yeah, no, for sure. That makes sense.”

Mitch disappears into the guest room when they get home, saying he’s tired and needs a nap. He’s still acting kind of off, but honestly Auston could use a nap too, so he doesn’t push the issue. He falls asleep on the couch instead, and then wakes up half an hour later with Willy half sprawled out on top of him, his long white fur tickling Auston’s nose. Apparently now that Freddie’s finally vacated the couch, Willy’s seizing his chance to claim it for himself, and he doesn’t care who gets in the way.

“Dude,” Auston says, shoving at the dead weight of dog draped over his chest. Willy makes a disgruntled whiny noise and rolls over just far enough for Auston to wriggle free, and then goes immediately back to sleep. As soon as he stands up Zach jumps up into the warm space and curls up in a bundle of spindly limbs. Lucky Willy has no sense of personal space at the best of times.

Stretching the crick out of his neck, Auston heads into the kitchen for a drink of water, and then stops dead in his tracks.

There’s a mouse on the bench.

It’s sniffing at the piled grocery bags full of vegetables and it doesn’t seem to have noticed Auston come in, but Auston knows instantly what’s happened. His worst nightmare in this nightmare of a week.

He’s the only human being left. Mitch is a fucking mouse.

Auston’s body goes into autopilot. There’s an empty plastic tupperware container on the sink, and before mouse Mitch can react he snatches it up and claps it down on top of him on the bench top, trapping him inside. Once his mouse teammate’s caught, _then _he starts to panic.__

__“Mitch, Mitchy, come on, don’t do this to me,” Auston pleads, bending down so he can look the mouse in the eye. “I can’t deal with this by myself.”_ _

__Mitch twitches his little mouse nose at him, beady black eyes glittering. He makes a really fucking cute mouse, but even a cute mouse is no good as a teammate or a dog wrangler or a magic problem solver. Not only that, but he’s so _tiny_ and vulnerable like this. Auston’s going to have to keep him away from Naz; Naz’ll never forgive him if Auston lets him eat his own liney._ _

__“Talk to me, buddy,” he says desperately. “Like, squeak if you understand me or something.”_ _

__“Um,” Mitch says from the doorway. “Is everything alright?”_ _

__Auston whirls around. Mitch, still very human-looking, is leaning against the door frame watching him with a bemused look on his face. He’s still unreasonably cute, but definitely not a mouse. Auston nearly collapses with relief._ _

__“Oh my god,” he says. “Oh my god, I thought you were…”_ _

__“Gonna eat all the cheese?”_ _

__He crosses the kitchen and Auston steps back so he can lean down and peer into the tupperware at the completely ordinary scruffy brown mouse._ _

__“Hey little guy,” he says, in the same soft, sweet voice he uses on the dogs. “You okay in there? Don’t mind my buddy here, he’s under a lot of stress at the moment.”_ _

__“I’m pretty sure it can’t understand you,” Auston says, embarrassment making him crabby._ _

__Mitch glances over his shoulder and grins. “Well, he didn’t squeak at you, so.” Auston makes a face at him. It was a totally reasonable assumption, okay? They have six dogs and a cat in their living room right now that prove it is._ _

__No, _his_ living room. Mitch doesn’t actually live here. He’s going to go home once the dog situation is resolved. Which is, you know. How it’s supposed to be._ _

__At least he’s not acting weird any more._ _

__Auston supposes they should, like, kill the mouse or something, because now they know it’s just a normal mouse it’s not like it can keep living in their— in _Auston’s_ condo. But Mitch insists they take it down to the park and set it free into the wild, because he’s a big fucking softy._ _

__“She’s not hurting anyone,” he scolds, because apparently the mouse is a girl now (“she just looks more like a girl, don’t you think?”). Auston thinks spreading germs all over the kitchen counts as hurting someone, i.e. him, but he guesses he’s kind of a softy too because he can’t help humouring Mitch. He hangs back slightly as Mitch shuffles a magazine cover under the tupperware container so he can gently flip it over and put the lid on. He leaves it cracked open a little at one corner so the mouse can get enough air._ _

__“Here, you hold her while I get my shoes on,” Mitch says, holding the box out. The mouse scurries back and forth a little frantically, and Auston jumps backwards. Mitch laughs. “You’re not afraid of a little mouse are you Matty?”_ _

__“I’m not afraid of h— it,” he says, putting his hands in his pockets just to be safe. “They’re just unhygienic, aren’t they?”_ _

__“Well shit, I’m not asking you to take her out for dinner,” Mitch says, rolling his eyes. “She’s in a plastic… oh fine, whatever, you big baby. Should we take the boys for a _doubleyou ay ell kay_ while we’re out?”_ _

__Auston doesn’t think much of trying to wrangle eight dogs and a Tupperware box with a mouse in it at the same time, but when he pokes his head into the living room Mo and Gards are both asleep, curled together in a blond puppy pile in the sunshine in front of the windows, and Freddie’s nowhere to be seen. Zach pokes his head up from the couch, though, ears alert, and when Auston gives him a questioning look and jerks his head towards the door, he comes running. Willy and Marty both rouse themselves to trot after him, and Auston figures they can probably handle a three dog W-A-L-K._ _

__God, now Mitch has got him doing it in his own head. Either they’ve got dog brains, in which case they don’t understand what anyone’s saying anyway, or they’ve got their own human brains and they can fucking spell walk._ _

__The dogs sniff interestedly at the tupperware box, which Mitch has put on the floor while his puts his shoes on. He gently pushes Zach away with his foot while Auston gets collars and leads on the other two, and then Zach stands solemnly still while Mitch kneels down to put his collar on him, talking rambling nonsense in his soft gentle talking-to-dogs voice. Auston kind of hopes the guys don’t have their normal human levels of understanding, because being spoken to like they’re real dogs would probably be humiliating, but when you’re just listening as an uninvolved bystander it’s pretty adorable. Maybe he should adopt a real dog once all this is over so Mitch will come around and talk soothingly to it with the same adoring, soppy look on his face._ _

__“What?” Mitch says, looking up at him from the floor with a smile. “You’re staring at me.”_ _

__Auston blinks. “What? No I’m not,” he says quickly. Then he clears his throat because his voice comes out all weird and squeaky. “Let’s get on with this.”_ _

__They decide to go a little further afield, to the bigger park a few blocks away where there’s an off-leash area for dogs and the guys can have more space to run around a bit, tire themselves out and stretch their legs properly._ _

__“What do you think, Marcia, you gonna like being a park mouse instead of a house mouse?” says Mitch, in this ridiculously affectionate voice._ _

__“You named the mouse?”_ _

__“Course,” Mitch says brightly. “She’s given me chirp material on you for at least the next week, we’re practically family, now.”_ _

__Auston elbows him. “Fuck off, I’m not afraid of mice. Anyway, you don’t think we should call her Michelle?” Mitch makes an obscene gesture at him that’s kind of spoiled by the Tupperware box in one hand and Zach’s lead in the other, but Auston gets the idea. It’s kind of unfairly charming._ _

__“I don’t know why you thought I’d be a mouse anyway,” Mitch says, holding the box up so he can peer in at Marcia. “I mean, they’re cute, and there’s the nickname I guess, but I’m so obviously a dog person. No offence, Marsh.”_ _

__“A dog person,” Auston smiles. “Obviously.”_ _

__“Well, yeah. Haven’t you ever thought about what you’d be if you were an animal? What animal your personality, like, meshes most with?”_ _

__“Uh, no, not really,” says Auston. He looks down at the three dogs doubtfully. “You think the guys turned into dogs that match their personalities?”_ _

__Mitch smiles. “I mean, sure. Like,” he pats Zach on the head, “Hyms is smart and he’s a total sweetheart but he’s also like, fucking ruthless, you know? Greyhound’s perfect for him, right buddy?” Zach looks up at him and whines happily. “And Will’s like, stupid pretty and a little weird. And Marty’s this tough dude who everyone thinks will maul you, but really he’s a big fuckin’ marshmallow, aren’t you? Yes you are!”_ _

__Marty hasn’t got a tail but he wags the little stump where a tail ought to be, gazing adoringly up at Mitch. Auston had no idea dogs could strut, but that’s totally what Willy’s doing on the other side of him, prancing along beside them with his pointy nose in the air. Auston is definitely not annoyed that Mitch thinks Willy is pretty. He has a point, when you think about it, about all of them._ _

__“And Naz hates being told what to do,” Auston says slowly. “But he’s soft as fuck on his own terms.”_ _

__“Exactly,” says Mitch, pointing at him. “Total cat person.”_ _

__“Okay, so what kind of dog would you be?” Auston says curiously as they get to the park. There aren’t many people around - it’s too early for the aftere-work crowd but it’s late enough that a lot of the daytime dog walkers have gone home - so they don’t really have to worry about getting recognised on their way to the off-leash area._ _

__“A labrador,” Mitch says, without hesitation. “But, like, a baby one, before they get all lazy and shit. Loyal, cuddly, loveable as fuck and absolutely no chill.”_ _

__“That sounds like you,” Auston says dryly, and Mitch beams like it’s a compliment. Which, maybe it is. Auston should be used to Mitch’s slightly dazzling smile by now, the way smiling seems to involve his entire body and somehow drag you into it as well, like his happiness is magnetic. But this warm fluttery feeling in his chest is new._ _

__“I think most guys who play hockey would probably be dogs,” Mitch muses, oblivious to Auston’s weird smile-related palpitations. “But I don’t know about you. You don’t seem like a dog person. Maybe you’d be a cat like Naz.”_ _

__“I’m allergic to cats,” Auston reminds him._ _

__“Hmm, tricky,” Mitch says. He gives him this appraising, up-and-down look that makes Auston feel weirdly flustered. “Maybe a wild cat? Can you be allergic to, like, mountain lions and shit? You’d make a good mountain lion.”_ _

__They arrive at the off-leash area and Marty, Zach and Willy dash off as soon as they’re freed, as if they’re actual real dogs. Auston wonders again just how much being in dog form has changed the way they think, if they feel like men trapped in dog bodies or if they’re more animal-like, with less complicated thoughts and desires. Mo seemed pretty much the same when he insisted on coming to the supermarket, but as time passes they all seem more and more like just...regular dogs. He hopes that’s not a bad sign._ _

__Mitch is looking around, frowning, mouse tupperware held in both hands._ _

__“We should probably go a little further away from the dogs to set her free,” he says. “I mean, none of _our_ boys would hurt her, but you never know with strange dogs.”_ _

__“Sure,” Auston says, and the warm fond feeling he has about Mitch worrying over a _mouse_ makes his voice go all dumb, but Mitch isn’t paying attention so he’s pretty sure he gets away with it._ _

__They find a sheltered spot under the trees with lots of undergrowth, and Mitch takes the lid of the box and gently tips it onto one side before putting it on the ground. The mouse sniffs nervously at the air a couple of times, hesitating at the edge of the box._ _

__“Go on little buddy,” Mitch says. “Be free!”_ _

__Auston could swear the mouse looks up at the sound of his voice, which is stupid because mice don’t understand english. Then it makes a dash for the trees and disappears out of sight._ _

__“There,” says Mitch, picking up the tupperware box. He sounds a little sad. “Mission accomplished.”_ _

__When they get back to the field full of dogs and settle in to wait for the guys to tire themselves out, Mitch tucks his arm through the crook of Auston’s elbow and huddles up next to him. “I’m cold,” he explains, making a face when Auston glances down at him, but that’s bullshit. Like, _Auston’s_ cold, but Mitch is always bragging about his superior cold tolerance or northern blood or whatever. He’s just getting emotional about the mouse and doesn’t want to admit it._ _

__Auston rolls his eyes, smiles in spite of himself, and lets him get away with it without chirping him._ _

__He’s going soft._ _

__Marty and Zach wander back to them after a while, feet too cold for running around any more, but Willy’s engaged in a game of tug of war with another dog - like, an _actual_ dog, presumably - and looks like he could keep playing forever._ _

__“Is this what having kids is like?” Auston sighs. Mitch snorts and bends down to hook leashes back onto Marty and Zach’s collars. He apologises under his breath while he’s doing it, but it’s still a better idea than getting fined or having one of the guys, like, confiscated because they were off-leash in public._ _

__“Hey Will,” Auston yells, “hurry up, would ya?”_ _

__Willy’s ears perk up at the sound of his name and he looks around, tug of war forgotten. When he sees Auston he bolts across the grass and flings himself into his arms like he’s coming in for a celly. Auston’s braced for it, of course - he’s not an idiot - but what he wasn’t counting on is that Willy’s smaller and lighter as a dog, so he can run faster and _jump higher_. His full weight hits Auston directly in the chest like a missile and sends them both flying._ _

__Auston twists around wildly, trying to get his legs back under him, but he just ends up stumbling into Mitch, who trips backwards right over Zach and lands on his back on the ground with Auston on top of him._ _

__“Oof,” says Mitch. And somehow Auston feels like he’s the one who got the wind knocked out of him, nose-to-nose with smiling, pink-cheeked Mitch all sprawled out under him and…and..._ _

__“Um, sorry,” he says, feeling his own face go red. Mitch just laughs and shoves at him._ _

__“Oh my god, maybe get off me _before_ you apologise.” _ _

__Auston scrambles to his feet and fumbles for the extra leash in his pocket so he can clip it on to Willy’s collar. His hands feel kind of sweaty all of a sudden in spite of the cold, and he fumbles it a couple of times before he gets the connector to catch properly._ _

__“Bet you’re proud of yourself, huh?” he says. Willy just grins up at him, pink tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth._ _

__Auston’s quiet for most of the walk home. Mitch isn’t phased by it; he occupies himself with talking to the dogs and to himself, and smiling at strangers they pass on the street, and he doesn’t seem to mind that Auston doesn’t talk back any more than the animals do._ _

__As for Auston, he’s feeling a little...lost. It’s not like thinking Mitch is cute is some kind of bolt from the blue or whatever; he’s known the guy for almost two years now, he’s seen him with kids and been on the receiving end of probably a hundred hugs and all that. Cute is basically his main brand, Auston isn’t noticing that for the first time or anything. But he _is_ noticing things all the same, details you don’t really pick up on until you’re spending literally all your time with someone. Things like...the little sliver of blue under Mitch’s dark eyelashes when he’s looking fondly down at some stupid antics from Willy and Zach. The pink blush of cold on his cheeks and at the very end of his nose. The way his mouth looks too big for his face and is just constantly, ceaselessly moving even when he’s not talking, and the way Auston’s suddenly possessed with the thought of catching Mitch’s mouth with his and making him be still._ _

__You know, just little details._ _

__He makes it home without falling over his own feet or walking into any walls, but it’s honestly a near thing. He can’t seem to stop looking at Mitch, and then looking away again every time Mitch looks back at him. He keeps doing it when they get home, while they muddle their way through cooking dinner for the guys (the way Mitch’s brow furrows while he’s cutting up bits of steak, the way he sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, it’s so distracting Auston nearly burns himself on the frying pan at least twice)._ _

__Once the boys are eating they realise they forgot to cook anything for themselves, so they order in and settle in front of the tv. Naz jumps up on the back of the couch and paces back and forth agitatedly until Auston passes him some of his sweet and sour chicken - “I’m pretty sure that’s not good for cats,” says Mitch the animal nutritionist, but Auston and Naz both ignore him - but when all the food’s gone he comes down and sits on Mitch’s lap, kneading his leg with sharp little claws._ _

__“Ouch,” Mitch says, leaning into Auston to try and dislodge Naz’s claws. “Hey, you can sit on me, but do you have to do that whole tenderising thing?” Naz just glares up at him._ _

__Auston laughs and stretches his arm out along the back of the couch, giving Mitch room to curl into his side._ _

__“Total cat person,” he says contentedly. “Just like you said.”_ _

__Mitch sighs, leaning his head on Auston’s shoulder. “He shouldn’t be a cat person, though,” he says, and Auston can’t see his face but he can hear the frown in his voice. “He should be a person person. It’s been days now and none of them are turning back.”_ _

__On the one hand, he’s right. But on the other hand, he’s only here because all their teammates are animals, and Auston...really likes him being here. He kind of wants to draw it out a little longer, stupid and selfish as that is._ _

__“I mean,” he says, “every time we call someone to tell them about it they turn into an animal. So I’m not sure just dragging more people into this is a good idea.” He tries to picture Babs hanging out in his, Auston’s, apartment as a dog and his brain just stalls. It’s unimaginable. What kind of dog would he even be? A pitbull or something, probably._ _

__“No, I know,” Mitch says. “But we have to do _something_.” He twists around in his seat so he can look Auston in the face, and he seems awfully close all of a sudden, frowning hard and worrying at his lip with his teeth. His eyes are very blue. Auston needs to get a hold of himself. “We can’t just leave them like this forever.”_ _

__“Okay,” Auston says, more stalling than anything, trying not to think about Mitch’s mouth. “Okay. Maybe we, uh...ask someone from outside the team. Then if they turn into an animal too, at least we’re not making things worse. For us, I mean.”_ _

__He hadn’t wanted to suggest it earlier because letting people know the situation they were in seemed kind of risky. Like this is the sort of thing to Toronto press would go crazy over, and anyone who’s not directly involved with the team doesn’t really have any reason to keep the secret. But it’s probably passed the point where that really matters, now._ _

__Mitch laughs. “That’s cold. I like it. But…” he shakes his head. “I don’t know any magic people.”_ _

__“Hang on,” Auston says getting out his phone. “I might know a guy.”_ _

____

*

Zach mostly laughs when Auston tells him the situation. Laughs and laughs for like three straight minutes.

“Are you done?” Auston says flatly.

“Sorry, sorry,” Zach says, choking back his laughter. “Almost. What did you say Kadri turned into?”

Auston grits his teeth. “A cat.”

“Amazing,” Zach wheezes. “Fucking classic. What’s Marner, a chipmunk?”

“Still a person,” Auston frowns. “That’s why I need your help. To make sure nobody else changes.”

“I mean,” says Zach, “maybe he’s already so much like a chipmunk there wasn’t much to change.” Auston can hear the grin in his voice, and honestly it’s exactly the kind of chirp he would have made himself if he’d thought of it first, so he can’t really be that mad. But, like, time is of the essence here. They’ve got a game in a matter of days.

“Listen, you always talked a big game about this magic shit,” he says. “Can you actually help me or was that all just bullshit? Pumping your own tires?”

That gets Zach’s attention. “Fuck off,” he says easily. “I can do it. Or, like, I can try and do it. I mean, I know what I’m doing, but it’s hard to know if I can take an enchantment off without actually being there to look at it for myself. It might be that only the guy who cursed your guys can turn them back again.”

Auston sighs. He was afraid it’d be something like that. “I mean, it’s better than nothing.”

“Geez, you’re welcome,” Zach snorts. “At the very least I can probably tell you who did it.”

“Okay.” Auston says. “Okay, no, that’d be great. That’ll help. Will you come, then?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“My undying gratitude?” Auston suggests. “The satisfaction of doing the right thing to help a good friend? I don’t know, good fucking sportsmanship or whatever?”

“Hmm,” Zach muses. “I’ll think of something, I guess. You’re picking me up from the airport, though, I hate trying to get an uber in Toronto.”

*

The guys are weirdly quiet for the rest of the night, but Auston doesn’t question it until he’s going to bed and Mitch appears in his room.

“My bed’s full of dogs,” he whines. “Guess I’m sleeping on the couch. You got a spare blanket or something?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Auston says before he can really think about it. “You can’t sleep on the couch. My bed’s huge, we’ll just share.”

Mitch goes kind of still and blinks at him.

“Oh. Um. Are you sure?”

Honestly Auston isn’t...really sure. But he’s said it now, so it’s not like he can back out without explaining why. He does a halfhearted little snort that he hopes doesn’t sound too forced.

“It’s not like I’ve never heard you snore before, man.”

“I do not _snore_ ,” Mitch says, offended, which is a damn lie. It’s not, like, a raucous, horrible snore, more like the odd little cute snuffle, but Auston’s shared enough hotel rooms with Mitch this season to be familiar with his quirky sleep noises, and the way he sprawls across his entire bed and knocks half the pillows on the floor every night. There’s probably no weird sleeping habits he’s got that Auston can be surprised by, at this stage.

They get into bed and Auston tries not to be too openly awkward about it, but he’s not sure he succeeds, because Mitch seems weirdly awkward too. They end up lying face to face on opposite sides of the bed, with enough room in between them for a whole extra person, just sort of politely staring at each other. It’s super strange. Auston feels like he’s physically restraining himself from touching Mitch, and that’s just not them at all. Since when have they ever been shy about touching each other?

Since Auston realised that some of the ways he wants to touch Mitch are not exactly bros, probably. Still, it’s not like he can’t be near someone he likes without being a total lunatic, is it? Surely?

“Well,” he says in this weirdly hearty kind of way that makes him sound like his dad. Why is he thinking about his _dad_ right now? “Uh, goodnight.”

Mitch smiles, almost his normal smile, maybe a little tense at the corners.

“Night,” he says. Auston reaches to turn out the light, but just as he does Mitch takes a sharp little breath, like he’s about to say something. Auston hesitates, but Mitch lets the breath out again without speaking.

“What’s up?” Auston says.

Mitch twists his face up on one side and shakes his head. “It’s nothing. It’s dumb.”

“Come on,” Auston says, reaching across the no man’s land in the middle of the bed to poke him in the side. “I’m not gonna sleep until you tell me.” 

Mitch looks away towards the ceiling like he can’t look Auston in the eye and sighs. Then he says, “I’m worried about Marcia.”

“Marcia?” Auston frowns. Who the fuck is-- “Oh, you mean the mouse?”

“I told you it was dumb, don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” Auston says. “What are you worried about?”

“Well,” Mitch says, and his eyes go very wide, “what if she doesn’t know how to look after herself out there? She’s used to living inside. What if she doesn’t know how to find food, or avoid predators and stuff. She could die.”

Privately Auston thinks, like, good riddance. The mouse was cute when he thought it was Mitch, but he’s not exactly going to lose any sleep over its fate now he knows it’s just a mouse. Mice probably die every day and nobody even knows about it. Circle of life, or whatever. But Mitch has got this little crease between his eyebrows like he gets when he’s stressing over a bad game or a long scoreless streak, and Auston knows if he lets him keep worrying about it he isn’t going to get any sleep.

“Geez, have a little faith” he says. Mitch frowns at him. “I mean she’s managed to stay alive in my kitchen for who knows how long,” Auston points out, “and when was the last time anything got cooked in there?”

Mitch snorts. “Did you even know how to use that stove before this week?”

“Shut up,” Auston says, kicking out at him under the blankets. Mitch squawks and moves his legs out of reach. “I’m just saying, your mouse buddy’s gotta be pretty good at, like, working with limited resources.”

Mitch narrows his eyes. “I know what you’re doing, you know,” he says, a smile tugging at his mouth. “You’re just making fun of yourself to make me feel better.”

“Is it working?”

They’ve slid a little closer together on the bed, still not touching but without the yawning expanse between them that there was before. Mitch purses his lips like he’s considering the question and Auston can’t help that his gaze flicks down, tracking the movement. He feels like they’re still leaning in together, like he’s falling into Mitch’s space, falling into his eyes, or something equally lame.

This is exactly what he was worried about. All he can think of right now is what would happen if he completely lost his mind and closed the gap between them, leaned in the rest of the way for a kiss.

But before he has time to think about it too much, Mitch does it for him. 

Like, he doesn’t _kiss him_ , obviously, that would be crazy, but he breaches the remaining gap between them and hugs Auston around the waist, face tucked into his neck.

“Yeah,” he says, a little muffled. “Thanks.”

Auston hugs him back with this weirdly full feeling in his chest, all warm and heavy. “We’re going to get them back to normal,” he says. “I promise. Zach’s going to be here in a couple days and he said he’ll know what to do, he’ll be able to change them back.”

It’s not, you know, the whole truth, but it seems like what Mitch needs to hear right now. Mitch sniffs.

“I know I said being a dog would be cool,” he says, “but it’d be pretty shit if you were stuck that way forever.”

“They won’t be,” Auston says firmly. “Listen, we need to sleep. I’m going to turn the light off now. D’you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?”

Mitch picks big spoon. Auston was pretty sure he would.

*

When Auston wakes up, there’s something wrong.

For one thing, there’s some kind of huge, heavy blanket over his head, like when you’re camping and the tent collapses on top of you in the night. Only he didn’t go to sleep in a tent, he was in his own bed, wasn’t he? He feels weird when he tries to scramble out from under it, not weak exactly, but like the blanket not-tent thing is just unimaginably big and unwieldy, and he can’t work out what it is. He can smell Mitch all around him, which is weird because he’s never really thought of Mitch as having a _smell_ before, other than normal hockey player stink after a game or whatever. This isn’t a bad smell, but he can’t really identify it other than that it’s _Mitch_ and it’s _everywhere_.

He manages to struggle out to the edge of the giant blanket, and finds himself faced with a pillow as big as he is. He leans down to sniff it and...and wait a minute, that’s not right. Why did he do that?

There’s a steady heavy breathing noise right next to him, he feels one big ear flick towards it, and then he looks down at his furry, sandy-coloured front paws and thinks _ah, fuck_.

He squirms all the way out from under the blanket - which is, of course, exactly the same size it was when he went to sleep - and looks at Mitch, still asleep on the other pillow. He is, mercifully, still human. Well at least there’s still someone around with opposable thumbs.

Auston nudges Mitch’s cheek with his tiny wet nose and then has to spring out of the way when Mitch sweeps an arm over his face and nearly knocks him clean off the bed.

“Naz, c’mon, I’m sleeping,” he groans. “Get Matts to feed you.”

Auston opens his mouth to say something sarcastic and what comes out is an embarrassingly squeaky meow. Honestly, couldn’t he at least have turned into a cool animal, like a lion or something? Of course, it’d probably be harder for Mitch to keep a lion in Auston’s apartment; there’s already barely enough room for all the dogs. He dabs insistently at Mitch’s face with one golden brown paw until Mitch makes a reluctant noise and opens his eyes.

He stares up at Auston in confusion for a second and then jolts upright in bed.

“Oh shit,” he says. “Matts?”

Auston meows again. He tries to make it sound a little less silly than before, but it’s still a dumb, squeaky noise. Mitch claps a hand over his mouth.

“Oh my god. You’re so _small_ ,” he says delightedly. “And, like. Fuzzy.”

Auston tries to glare at him but he doesn’t know if it works, because his face muscles feel all weird and different. He doesn’t think cats have eyebrows. Mitch presses his lips together like he’s trying very hard not to laugh.

“Sorry man,” he says, ruffling the top of Auston’s head a little too hard. His hands seem _huge_ now that Auston’s so infuriatingly little. “You’re just...you should see yourself, you’re really cute.” 

Auston flattens his ears and Mitch lightens his touch a little, but doesn’t stop stroking his head. It feels like he should object, but it’s kind of nice, so he closes his eyes and allows it.

“You like that, huh,” Mitch says fondly, scritching his blunt nails around the back of one of Auston’s ears, and that feels really nice too, so he hunkers down in the blankets and leans his head into it. “Aw, look at you. You’re like a little loaf,” says Mitch. “Little cat loaf. I’m kind of surprised you _are_ a cat, though. Aren’t you allergic?”

Auston opens his eyes in alarm, and immediately sneezes.

Mitch cracks up, collapsing back onto the bed. As far as Auston’s concerned, this is no laughing matter. Not the allergy thing - he’s pretty sure cats can’t be allergic to themselves, that sneeze was probably a coincidence - but the fact that Mitch is now the only human left. If he changes into something next, they’re all fucked.

He expresses his anxieties by batting at Mitch’s side with one paw, and he must have sunk his claws in by accident because Mitch yelps and flinches away, only Auston’s claw gets caught in the fabric of his tshirt and snags painfully, making him hiss.

“Hey, hold on, I got you,” Mitch says soothingly, gently catching Auston’s paw in one hand and carefully freeing his claws. Auston hunches down and flattens his ears unhappily. “What’s the matter?”

It’s a stupid fucking question because Auston can’t _answer_ it, only when he opens his cat mouth to say that it comes out as a grumpy growling noise. Mitch reaches out to stroke him again and Auston instinctively ducks away from his touch, but Mitch’s hand follows, gentle. 

“Sorry,” he says, “sorry, I know. You’re freaking out.” He rubs his thumb over the smooth fur between Auston’s ears. “But Werenski’s supposed to be here tomorrow, right? He’ll be able to undo everything, you said.”

And sure, Auston _had_ said that, because he didn’t want Mitch to panic. But all Zach had told him - once he stopped laughing - was that he’d try. Try and work out who’d cursed them and how. None of that guarantees he’ll be able to undo it, or that they’ll be able to track down the asshole who did this to them in the _two fucking days_ left before the end of the bye week, and it definitely doesn’t guarantee Mitch won’t wake up as a fucking labrador or a mouse or a...a _possum_ tomorrow morning and be unable to go get Zach from the airport anyway.

And all that’s assuming Zach didn’t turn into a wolverine or something as soon as he got off the phone.

“C’mon,” Mitch says. “Everyone’ll be in here looking for breakfast in a minute.” He throws back the blankets, which is surprisingly alarming when you’re a tiny six pound animal, and while Auston’s still disoriented by all the movement and noise (everything’s so _loud_ now) Mitch stands up and scoops him up in his arms like a toy.

Auston lets out a squeaky little meow of protest and squirms free, because it’s bad enough being tiny and weirdly sensitive to everything without also being manhandled. Unfortunately he didn’t count on the fact that Mitch’s arms are kind of long way up, now. He hits the floor with a thump that jars his whole body. Which is, like, fucking unfair, aren’t cats supposed to be good at falling? At least he landed on his feet.

“Oh geez, careful,” Mitch says, and Auston’s vision is suddenly filled with a giant pair of hands descending towards him. He hisses loudly, not even on purpose, it just kind of comes out. Mitch’s hands jerk back.

“Okay,” he says slowly, and his voice is very soft, all gentle and soothing. “Okay buddy, I’m sorry. No more grabbing, alright?” 

He crouches down and turns one hand over palm up, holding it out towards Auston like a peace offering. Auston’s nose twitches. He sniffs tentatively, and his weird, sensitive cat nostrils fill with the warm, familiar scent that he somehow recognises as Mitch, and it washes over him like a drug, like an instant muscle relaxant. His hunched shoulders start to drop, and he lets Mitch stroke his head a couple of times.

“Still friends?”

It’s not like he can reply, so he just blinks, but Mitch seems to get the idea.

*

Being a cat is weird. Like, of course it is, but not just in the obvious physical ways, in small, unexpected details too. All Auston’s senses feel like they’re dialed up to eleven, and it’s kind of alarming the way his body responds to things almost before he’s had a chance to notice them.

He’s got an answer to the question of how human everyone is in animal form now, at least, and how much they understand, which is “mostly” and “pretty much everything”. The main difference is that he’s distracted by the overwhelming onslaught of noises and smells and sensations around him, like his ears swiveling uncontrollably like radar dishes, not to mention the deeply disconcerting feeling of having a goddamn tail and whiskers that can hit things even when he’s nowhere near those things. Also all his emotions feel both bigger and simpler than they did before. Safe. Startled. Curious. Irritated. It’s like his tiny cat body can only contain one feeling a time, and when he’s feeling something it fills him right up to the brim.

It’s not all freaking out over sudden movements and falling off things and yelling at Mitch, though. He’s happy to find he feels the same way around the guys as he did when they were human and he was too. Each of them has an undefinable but uniquely familiar scent, just like Mitch does, and none of them are particularly scary just because they’re dogs and he’s a cat, even though they’re all much bigger than he is, and Freddie’s absolutely mind-bogglingly huge. Zach and Willy come and sniff at him interestedly when he trails Mitch into the kitchen, but they’re careful about it. They still smell like friends.

Nobody’s scent has quite the same instant relaxing off switch effect as Mitch but that’s...probably for non-cat-related reasons. Auston’s decided not to think about it.

He’s also trying not to think about the fact that he’s even smaller than Naz now, which is frankly offensive.

Mitch has to prepare food for six dogs and two cats all on his own now, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. He wishes everyone a personal good morning as he sets their plates of food down in front of them, like a waiter introducing the daily specials.

“For sir,” he tells Freddie, “we have sirloin steak grilled medium rare with a medley of winter vegetables. And for, uh, smaller sir,” Auston narrows his eyes and Mitch does the little smirk that means he thinks cat Auston’s being especially cute, “pan-seared salmon with...nah, just kidding, it’s salmon out of a can. But like, the fancy stuff. Naz loves it.”

Auston sniffs his dish cautiously. Actually even as a human he kind of likes canned salmon, so you’d think as a cat it’d be right up his alley. But the strong fishy smell just doesn’t seem right. He can smell Freddie’s steak underneath the fish, and that’s what has his mouth watering, the scent of red meat, just a little undercooked because Mitch doesn’t really know what medium rare means.

He gives the fish a final, considering sniff, and then ducks in between Freddie’s front legs and snags a chunk of beef off his plate.

“Hey!” Mitch laughs. Freddie looks down at him and sighs.

He looks the other way while Auston steals three more pieces off his plate, though. Fred’s a good friend.

*

Being a cat is actually kind of boring, it turns out. You can’t play video games, work out, shop or even have a conversation, and honestly what else is there to do when you’re stuck inside? It’s not like he can scroll insta with paws. If he posted a selfie right now he’d probably get the most likes of his life, but they agreed to keep all the animal teammates off socials and Auston supposes that includes himself. For one thing the Toronto media would have a field day - is Auston Catthews really leadership material if he can’t stay human for a single week at this crucial time in the Leafs’ calendar? - and for another thing, how do you even take a decent selfie without opposable thumbs?

Willy and Zach have invented some sort of game that involves chasing each other up and down the corridor, so he gets in on that for a bit. Darting in and out of galloping dog legs is kind of fun, actually, and he’s so small and light that he’s way faster than either of them. But then Willy lets out a loud, joyful bark right in his ear and it’s like his entire nervous system goes into overdrive. Before he knows what’s happening he’s flattened himself on the floor and taken a swipe at Willy’s nose, hissing furiously. 

Willy yelps and leaps back, two vivid red scratches blossoming across his white snout.

“Okay, that sounded like not fun noises,” Mitch says, skidding into the hall. He takes one look at Willy, sad-eyed and bleeding slightly, at Zach anxiously hopping back and forth, and at Auston still lying flat on the floor, and scoops Auston up into his arms. Auston lets him, this time. His human brain knows Willy wouldn’t hurt him, not on purpose anyway, but his cat heart is pounding and he feels like every hair on his body is standing on end.

“Are you hurt?” Mitch demands urgently, turning Auston over and checking his limbs. Willy whines and Auston feels like an asshole. _He’s_ not the one that’s bleeding. “Shh, okay, you’re alright, he didn’t mean to scare you,” Mitch says, and Auston knows that already, but Mitch’s soft talking-to-animals voice is soothing anyway. He buries his face in Mitch’s shoulder and lets the sound and smell of him calm him down while Mitch crouches to check on Willy, balancing Auston’s tiny cat body with one hand.

“Ouch,” he says to Willy. “He really did a number on you, huh. I think we probably better clean that up, cats’ claws can be pretty nasty. Uh,” he bounces Auston slightly against his shoulder, like a baby. “No offense.”

Auston wants to laugh, but he doesn’t think cats can, so he doesn’t.

Mitch drops him off in the living room before he plays vet nurse for the scratch on Willy’s nose, and Auston climbs up onto the couch where Freddie’s in his usual spot and curls up in a tight ball against his side. He still feels a little shaky, but mostly just fucking embarrassed. He’s going to owe Willy a drink or something if they ever get their real bodies back again.

Still, Freddie’s big and warm and calm, and his slow breathing slowly lulls Auston into a doze.

The rest of the day pretty much passes the same way. Mitch has to walk all the dogs in pairs because it’s hard to juggle three or four or six leashes at once, so he’s gone half the time, and Auston finds he drifts in and out of consciousness mostly out of boredom. Mitch gives his head a scritch every time he walks past. Auston finds the sunny spot in the window and it’s fucking amazing, like lying in a hot bath that never goes cold and doesn’t make your skin go all wrinkly. He’s not keen to be a cat for the rest of his life or anything, but it’s a pretty good afternoon anyway.

Plus eventually Willy comes to find him and gently touches his nose to Auston’s, which kind of feels like the animal equivalent of a fist bump. So no hard feelings.

After prepping another half dozen dog dinners - Auston gets beef of his own this time instead of fish - Mitch orders in and claims a spot next to Freddie on the couch. Annoyingly, that doesn’t leave any room for Auston, so he makes himself comfortable on Mitch’s lap.

“You’re just trying to steal my dinner,” Mitch says, balancing his pad see ew (hold the vegetables) on the arm of the couch. And, like, Auston _wasn’t_ , but since Mitch is bringing it up…

His nose twitches curiously until Mitch relents and hands him a piece of chicken, and then he gets stuck in a loop licking every last trace of the sweet and salty sauce from his fingers until Mitch giggles and shakes him off.

Auston could happily go to sleep right here, with the tv providing the only light in the room and Mitch trailing idle fingertips down his back. But Mitch is yawning uncontrollably and he should probably go to bed. Auston doesn’t know why he isn’t going.

Finally Mitch says, “I should probably go to bed but you look so comfortable it feels wrong to make you move.”

Auston would make a face if he could. He manages to narrow his eyes at least.

“Oh shut up,” Mitch says, giving him a gentle poke with one finger. “You’re adorable. _You_ wouldn’t want to disturb you either.”

The guest room’s full of dogs again, because Mitch apparently doesn’t know how to close doors, but that’s fine by Auston. He was thinking his giant bed was probably going to be cold with only one small cat in it, anyway. He waits for Mitch get settled and then goes and curls up on the other pillow. It takes a few goes to get comfortable - he has to turn around in a circle twice before it feels right to sit down - but finally he manages to find just the right position with his tail curled in out of the way and his front feet tucked underneath him. Mitch watches him silently with his dumb “animals are cute” face on.

Auston yawns, and Mitch makes a small squeaky noise and buries his face in the pillow.

He reaches out and gives Auston one last scritch behind the ears. “It’ll be good to have you back to normal,” he says, “but I think I’m going to miss this part.”

Privately Auston feels the same. Although he’s probably going to miss it for different reasons.

*

Mitch goes to pick Zach up from the airport first thing in the morning, and everyone seems on edge while they wait for him to come back.

Naz paces restlessly in front of the windows as if he’ll be able to see Mitch drive into the underground car park from here. Marty lies in the doorway with his head on his paws and jerks upright every couple of minutes, whenever he hears some random noise in the distance. Auston supposes he’s been stuck like this the longest of any of them; he’s probably eager to get back on two legs.

Auston stays on the couch with Freddie. Fred seems calm, but he’s got his head pointed towards the front door today, so even he’s not immune to the nervous energy in the room. Auston feels agitated, impatient. The tip of his tail keeps twitching back and forth and it feels annoying, like an uncontrollable muscle spasm; it’s only making him feel more on edge. He wishes Naz would sit _still_.

Finally, Mitch’s keys jangle in the lock and they all look up, eight furry faces turned intently in the direction of the front door. Even Willy looks serious, his fluffy white face alert. Gards makes an impatient little whimpery sound, and then looks embarrassed about it.

“Hey guys,” Mitch says. “You miss me or something?”

Zach - dog Zach - jumps up and trots over to him, and Mitch reaches down to rub his ears as the other Zach - human Zach - comes into the room behind him.

“Geez,” he says, looking around the room with a little half smile, somewhere between amused and incredulous. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but your apartment smells like dogs.” He looks down at dog Zach and grins. “Hey buddy, long time no see.”

Auston stands up, and his dumb cat muscles do that automatic full body stretch thing they do every time he gets up after sitting down for a long time. Zach looks over and lets out a short, sharp laugh.

“Jesus, is that him? He’s fucking tiny.”

Auston glares at him and springs down onto the floor, walking over with as much dignity as his “tiny” body can muster.

“D’you want a drink or something?” Mitch says. “There’s stuff in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, sure,” Zach shrugs. “Then we might as well get started.” He’s still looking down at Auston with this mix of amusement and intense scrutiny. Auston wonders if he’s doing his witch thing already or if he’s just being a dick. He gestures to Auston, smirking slightly. “After you.”

He and Mitch fuss around in the kitchen a bit - Zach laughing at the array of meat in the fridge, Mitch rambling on about nothing because he hasn’t got to speak to another human being in almost two days - while Auston paces around on the kitchen floor feeling impatient. Finally, Zach looks down at him again.

“Hey Aus, c’mere,” he says, patting his hand on the countertop. Auston jumps up on the counter and pads over to him, weirdly aware that he’s an animal right now and animals probably shouldn’t be walking around on, like, kitchen surfaces. He stops worrying about it when Zach grabs him by the scruff of the neck and hauls him closer.

“Hey!” Mitch protests.

“Oh he’s fine,” Zach says, flashing Auston a grin. “It’s just fun being able to push him around without him pushing back. He’s such a grumpy son of a bitch normally.” Auston gives him a very unimpressed look, but Mitch laughs. It’s a little strangled, like he’s doing it in spite of himself, but it sounds real. Zach raises one eyebrow at Auston as if to say: _see? I can be nice._ “Come on, let me look at you.”

Auston submits to slightly gentler manhandling as Zach basically examines every inch of his cat body from paws to tail. It’s pretty awkward, honestly. Mitch was carrying him around like a stuffed animal yesterday and that was fine, but somehow this feels different, makes him feel small and helpless in a way he’s not used to and does _not_ like. Not that he thinks Zach would hurt him on purpose, but he _knew_ Mitch was trying not to even by accident.

After a minute or so, Zach starts to laugh.

“What?” Mitch says urgently. “What is it? Can you tell who did it? Can you undo it?”

“Uh, no,” Zach says, still laughing. “ _I_ can’t undo it.”

Auston sinks flat onto the counter and Mitch slumps forward with a sigh.

“Shit,” says Mitch. “So what’s funny about that? Where’d the spell come from, who did it?”

Zach looks up at him, shaking his head. “Dude. _You_ did it.”

Auston feels like the bottom’s dropped out of his stomach. Is this supposed to be some kind of joke? He flattens his ears and hisses, swatting at Zach with his claws out.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger, man,” he tells Auston, holding both hands up. “It’s true.” He looks up at Mitch and narrows his eyes thoughtfully. “You don’t even know you’re doing it, do you?”

“Because I’m _not_ ,” Mitch says. “I wouldn’t...I’m not...I don’t even know _how_ to turn people into animals, what the fuck.”

“Okay,” Zach says. “But you did though. He’s got your, like, essence all over him.”

Auston is pretty sure cats can’t blush, which is lucky. Mitch definitely can though, and he does, vividly.

“I mean,” he says. “I mean the dogs kept taking up all the bed in the guest room so…”

Zach snorts. “Uh, okay,” he says, deeply amused. “I don’t mean that, but sure, good to know. No, I meant your _magic_ essence. You didn’t know you were a witch?” Mitch shakes his head. “Wait, the guest room? Don’t you live here?”

“No, I’ve got my own place,” says Mitch. “I’ve just been staying here to help with all the d—” He trails off, his face turning bright red again.

“Huh. There you go,” Zach grins.

“Shit,” Mitch says again, like it’s a revelation this time, only they’re clearly having some sub conversation Auston doesn’t understand. But then Mitch puts his head in his hands, looking miserable, and that’s something he _does_ understand. He doesn’t like it. He pads back across the counter to where Mitch is, lashing his tail. “Why him too though? Why a cat?” 

Auston nudges at Mitch’s hands with the flat top of his head until he stops covering his face and runs one hand the length of Auston’s back. It seems to calm him down a bit, so Auston sits down on the counter and lets Mitch stroke him methodically from head to tail. It kind of calms him down too, come to think of it.

“I don’t know what to tell you, man,” Zach says, terribly dry, “but I barely know you and I’m pretty sure _I_ know why.”

“If you make a pussy joke I will literally kill you,” Mitch says warningly, scritching behind Auston’s ears. Zach laughs.

“Jesus, is he _purring?_ ”

Mitch shrugs. “He’s a cat. They do that.”

Zach shakes his head. “If someone told me a couple years ago Auston Matthews was going to turn into a cat I would've thought, like, scary fucking jungle cat, not purring house cat. If you just wanted to get his attention you can probably turn everyone back, now. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t think he _is_ a house cat,” Mitch says, tugging gently on one of Auston’s ears. It feels surprisingly good. “The ears are too big. He’s a little wild cat. A little badass. Aren’t you bud?” Auston purrs louder.

“Wow,” says Zach. “I am seriously never going to let him forget this.”

*

Zach has places to be, and is just at the start of a bye week that presumably doesn’t involve taking any teammates to the dog park, so Mitch drives him back to the airport later that afternoon. He scritches Auston’s ears on the way out and says, “Maybe you shouldn’t change him back, I kinda like him like this.”

“Thanks for the tip,” Mitch says dryly. “I think I prefer having a hockey team instead of a zoo, though.”

But by the time it’s dark outside and Mitch is yawning and rubbing his eyes in front of the tv, Auston’s still a cat.

It’s nice, the way Mitch’s fingers keep trailing idly through his fur where he’s curled up against Mitch’s hip on the couch, but Auston can’t help feeling kind of frustrated. Why hasn’t he changed them back yet? The dogs are all sprawled around the living room, drowsy and unconcerned, but cat Naz is sitting on the arm of the couch glaring at Mitch while the tip of his tail twitches impatiently.

“Well,” Mitch says to the room full of animals, ignoring Naz. “Guess it’s bedtime.”

He pauses like he’s waiting for someone to say something, but the dogs ignore him. Naz pointedly turns his back. Mitch sighs and scritches the top of Auston’s head.

“G’night bud.”

He gets up and turns the lights off, heading down the hall to bed, and Auston springs lightly off the couch and follows him. Even though all the dogs are in the living room, Mitch bypasses the guest bedroom and heads straight for Auston’s, like it’s automatic. He doesn’t seem to realise he’s being followed until he gets into bed and Auston jumps up and stands on his chest. 

If he could talk, he’d have a lot to say right now. Like, what the fuck, man? What are you doing? I want my opposable thumbs back, please? We’ve got fucking hockey to play in two days and I don’t know how I’m going to lace my skates with paws? He’s not sure his limited cat facial expressions can adequately convey the frustration and confusion he’s feeling, but he does his best, kneading irritably at Mitch’s chest with his front paws.

Mitch groans. “I _know_ ,” he says. “I want to, I just…” he tips his head back against the pillows and looks up at the ceiling. “I guess there’s some stuff that’s easier to say when you can’t talk back.”

Auston...literally can’t respond to that, so he stops kneading and settles down in place instead, hunching his furry shoulders. _So_ , he hopes his body language says. _Go on, then. Talk._

Mitch takes a shaky breath. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I don’t know how much of this you can really understand or whether you’re going to remember it when you’re a person again, but…” He sighs. “That stuff Werenski said. I guess...no, alright, I _know_ , he’s right. I didn’t do any magic on purpose but all of this, Marty and then the other guys and moving in here...it’s pretty obvious now that was all just to get me...well. Closer to you.” He screws his face up in embarrassment, closing his eyes like he can’t bear to look at Auston while he speaks. “Which is stupid, and pathetic, but here we are I guess. I like you. A lot. I mean, you’re my best friend and the best teammate and all that but I want...I want to be other things too. And I feel really fucking dumb saying all this to a cat, but I’ve never been able to say it when you were a person, so.”

Auston blinks slowly.

He’s kind of...well, honestly, he’s kind of pissed.

Not about _what_ Mitch is saying, and not even really about how - he gets it, the awkwardness of laying yourself bare like that to someone who could devastate you without even trying, without meaning to - but of course, _of course_ Auston wants all that shit too. Finding out Mitch is into him should be good, happy, exciting, but he can’t say anything back and it’s so _frustrating_ , like having something stuck in his throat that he can’t swallow around. He wants to be reassuring but he can’t, and all Mitch has really done is made this whole thing more difficult than it would’ve been if they’d just, like, had a normal conversation about it.

So, sure, Auston could’ve started that conversation himself, but you know. He didn’t know how it was going to go until just now. Hindsight is 20-20, or whatever.

Mitch feels so tense beneath him, watching him anxiously like he’s trying to interpret his feline silence, and Auston hates the pinched, unhappy look on his face, so he leans forward and nudges the end of Mitch’s nose with his own. Mitch startles, but then Auston settles back onto his chest, tucking his front paws under and curling his tail around himself comfortably, and Mitch seems to relax. He lifts one hand and strokes Auston’s back, light and tentative at first, but more confidently when Auston shuts his eyes and sets up a soft, contented pur.

It’s not talking. They’re probably going to have to do that for real later. But it’s nice all the same.

*

Auston wakes up with his face smooshed against Mitch’s chest, and it takes him a moment to work out why he’s so cold. The facts register slowly as his drowsy brain comes back online. First, he doesn’t seem to be a cat any more. He can definitely feel thumbs when he goes to flex his fingers and the faintly annoying twitchy ear feeling he’s been getting from every tiny sound is gone. So that’s good, right? Second, he’s cold because he fell asleep on top of the blankets and is still lying on top of them, as well as on top of Mitch.

And third, cats don’t traditionally wear pyjamas, so like, he’s pretty naked.

He lifts his head cautiously, and finds Mitch already awake and watching him. Which, sure, it makes sense that he’d be awake, because a six pound cat turning into a two hundred pound dude on top of you is probably hard to sleep through. But now he’s looking right into Mitch’s face and he looks so uncertain and nervous, like he’s waiting for something to happen, like he’s holding his breath.

“Hey,” Auston says eloquently. His voice sounds croaky and low, like he hasn’t spoken in days. Which he supposes is technically true. Mitch’s smile is a little unsure, but real.

“Hi,” he says. “Welcome back.”

It all made sense last night, to his small cat brain that seemed to feel irritation and contentment more strongly than any other emotions, but today with his human brain it feels...bigger. More significant. Mitch has been here, in his bed, for the last three nights because the guest room is full of dogs. And like, Auston was a cat for two out of three of those nights, but still, they were definitely Sharing A Bed the whole time. Cuddling, even. The huge number of dogs is _also_ the reason why Mitch was staying in Auston’s guest room, instead of at his own place, in the first place. Dogs that, it turns out, Mitch bewitched into existence himself, because...because he…

“I really didn’t know I was doing it,” Mitch says quickly, like he can hear what Auston’s thinking. “I promise. I wouldn’t have...not on purpose.”

Auston does believe that. He might have been a cat at the time, but there was no mistaking the look of shock and dismay on Mitch’s face when he found out he was the witch. It’s the _reason_ that feels huge and surprising. The whole time his house was filling up with dogs, here he was being happy about it, about having Mitch there with him all the time, and then feeling guilty for feeling happy because he was only there because everything was a disaster and it was making Mitch miserable, and he never really needed to feel guilty at all because Mitch was being just as dumb as he was. Dumber, really, when you count the fact that Auston’s secret pining didn’t turn anyone into a household pet.

“I don’t know if you remember much from...from yesterday,” Mitch says, talking a little faster now. “The stuff I said last night. But what Werenski said, about turning you all back because I got your attention or whatever? I mean, that’s not. You shouldn’t feel like I expect…” He makes a helplessly embarrassed kind of face, trailing off.

It’s all a bit mind-blowing, really. Auston doesn’t quite know how to feel. Exasperated and frustrated and surprised and kind of awkward, for sure, but also, he’s lying in his bed with this complete idiot who turned him into a fucking cat so he didn’t have to tell him he had a crush on him and it’s just...it’s kind of perfect. Mitch never does anything in a normal, understated way. Why would this be any different?

“Would you just say something?” Mitch says, a little desperately. “It doesn’t have to be...anything, just, I can’t…what are you thinking right now?”

“I was thinking,” Auston says slowly, “that maybe I should kiss you. What d’you think?”

Mitch goes rigid with surprise under him. “What?”

“I thought it might be weird,” he props himself up on his elbows so he can look down at Mitch without straining his neck so much. “But now it kind of seems weirder not to, considering.”

“You don’t have to,” Mitch says unhappily.

“Uh, yeah, I know,” Auston says. “I’m not gonna mack on you just to be nice, dude. Nobody’s that good a friend.”

“So…” Mitch frowns up at him. “What are you saying?”

Auston resists the urge to, like, headbutt him in frustration, but it’s a close run thing. “I’m saying,” he says slowly, looking Mitch right in the eye, “that I remember what you said last night, and yeah, me too. Now I want to kiss you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Can I?”

Mitch’s face does something complicated. “ _Can_ you…?” he says. “I...wh—uh, please? Yes? Kiss me?”

So, Auston kisses him. It feels like a long time coming.

Of course, if Auston’s human again that means everyone else is too. And newly-human-again Marty chooses that exact moment to throw open the bedroom door.

“Hey, we’ve got a bit of a nakedness situation out here, you got some spare— oh, whoops. Sorry, I’ll…uh... ”

The door slams shut again, and Auston buries his face in Mitch’s shoulder. “Ugh, knock much?” He looks up and Mitch is making a ridiculous face, like he’s struggling not to laugh.

“Well, I guess you could say,” he says, his smile slowly spreading into a gleeful grin, “the cat’s out of the bag.”

“I literally hate you,” Auston says, and then spoils it a bit by kissing him again. He can feel Mitch smiling against his mouth and it makes him want to kiss him harder and burst out laughing at the same time; he feels giddy with it, the happy bubbling excitement he was missing last night. Mitch runs both his hands down Auston’s back, which kind of feels like the cat stroking thing but better, and then he laughs again.

“Dude, are you _naked?_ ”

“Cats don’t wear pants, Mitchy.”

Mitch giggles. “Poor Marty.”

“Poor Marty!” Auston exclaims. “I had to put his shit in a bag in the fucking park, I think he can handle my bare ass.”

“Nah,” says Mitch, grinning. “I think I’ve got the ass handling covered.” He tugs at the layer of blankets between them. “Get in here, would you? I’m cold just looking at you.”

It takes a bit of wrangling to get the bedding out of the way so Auston can get into the bed properly, but when he finally manages it Mitch doesn’t feel cold at all. He’s hot and close and his warm hands are everywhere, and he’s definitely true to his word with the ass handling.

The guys who want clothes are just going to have to wait.

*

The reactions when Mitch confesses about being responsible for everything are...mixed.

“I’ve been trying to tell you that all _week_ ,” Naz says furiously. “I was so pissed at you when I first changed, and then when I actually got here I worked out it wasn’t a shitty bye week prank, you’re just an idiot. Didn’t your mother ever teach you how to control your powers?”

“I’ve never had any powers!” Mitch exclaims. “My mom doesn’t either. And since when do you know about witch things, anyway?”

Naz holds out both his hands, palm up, in a _what the fuck_ kind of gesture. “Dude,” he says. “Everyone knows I’m a witch.”

“Yeah, I knew that,” Gards says, raising his hand.

“Same,” says Mo. Zach and Marty are both nodding.

“Don’t look at me,” Willy shrugs from his position sprawled on the floor. He seems to have taken to being a dog and he’s not giving up the dog life just because he’s got two legs again now. “I don’t know anything.”

Auston laughs and leans back on the couch, stretching his own legs out as far as they’ll go, because it feels good to be a decent size again. Everything about this whole stupid situation is back to being funny again, now it’s over. “Nobody’s ever accused you of knowing anything, Will,” he grins.

Willy just raises his eyebrows and looks pointedly from Auston to Mitch and back again. “Oh yeah?” he says. “I do know _some_ things.”

“Everyone knows _that_ thing,” Marty points out. “We all had to sit around naked for like an hour because of that thing.”

“It was not an _hour_ ,” Mitch says, his face turning red, but Auston’s still watching Willy through narrowed eyes as something clicks into place in his memory.

“Heyyy,” he says slowly, accusatory. “Wait. When you knocked me over in the park that time. That was on purpose?”

Willy smiles sweetly. He’s still got a cat scratch across the bridge of his nose.

“You’re welcome,” says Zach, and holds out his fist for Willy to bump, grinning. Auston remembers the whole sequence like it’s playing out on film in his head; Willy cannoning into him at top speed, Mitch tripping over Zach’s back and the two of them landing in a heap on the ground.

“You were in on it? What the fuck.” Auston’s head is spinning. “I can’t believe my own lineys would play me like that.”

“We were doing you a favour!” Willy says, and Zach laughs.

“We were doing ourselves a favour. If I had to listen to you gush about Marns one more time without realising you’re in lo--”

“Alright,” Auston says loudly. “Alright. Everyone can get out of my house now, thanks. I’ve had enough of all of you.” 

He’s not sure he’s ready to hear that particular string of words yet, barely hours after confessing any feelings at all to Mitch. He’s definitely not ready to have Zach announce he’s in love, in front of half the team, before he’s even had a chance to decide if he wants to say it for himself. It’s way too early for that, anyway, right? Yeah, definitely way too early.

Then Mitch glances over his shoulder at him, smiling slightly, and Auston reaches out and snags the hem of his shirt with his fingers. 

“Not you,” he says, answering the smile with one of his own, one that makes him feel like they’re already the only people in the room, and maybe...maybe Zach’s not completely wrong, after all. “You can stay.”

**Author's Note:**

> He probably would make a good mountain lion, but cat Auston is a Sand Cat. Presumably Mitch’s subconscious was sensible enough to realise keeping a freaking puma in a condo would be difficult, so he went with the compact option. (Can you imagine cuddling a puma though? And can you imagine all the cougar jokes???) ANYWAY, SAND CATS. Do google them, for your own wellbeing. They have very square heads, come from the desert (the North African desert, but w/e), and have excellent resting bitch face. Like, even for a cat. They have stripes on their front legs that look like the arm stripes on a hockey jersey! And they’re also VERY TINY AND CUTE. RIP Mitch. 
> 
> In case you missed them, the other Leafs-as-animals are:
> 
> Naz - a small grey housecat, picture Jazzy without the white bits (people resemble [their own pets](http://hockeyplayerswithpets.com/post/163032240289/nazem-kadri-and-his-cat-jasmine-aka-jazzy) I don’t make the rules)  
> Freddie - a reddish coloured great dane *exaggerated wink*  
> Marty - a rottweiler ([exhibit A](https://mapleleafsnation.com/2017/08/09/tln-good-boy-profile-jax/))  
> Gards - a golden retriever  
> Mo - another golden retriever almost identical to Gards  
> Willy - a samoyed  
> Zach - a greyhound


End file.
